


The Patience of a Saint

by DramaticFool



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Gaps filled with Headcanons, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Other, Spoilers, The Red Canyon (Fire Emblem), War of Heros (Fire Emblem), lots of blood, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24218791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramaticFool/pseuds/DramaticFool
Summary: A thousand years is a long time to wait. What happened during those years to change the blood-soaked children into saints? History has been written and rewritten, but the truth lay buried within. The plot of a wronged generation, the corruption of power, the revenge of the gods, and the love of a few - and humans, stuck in the middle of it all. The story of how it was all set in motion.
Relationships: Possibly More I don't know, Seteth/Seteth's Wife (Fire Emblem)
Kudos: 8





	The Patience of a Saint

It did not take long for something that had once been so familiar to turn into something so completely foreign. Yes, this sort of thing happened all the time, but not here. Great buildings that he knew to be sturdy structures, that once housed his brothers and sisters-aunts and uncles, were now unrecognizable; Black roofs, caved walls, bloody portraits. This was not his home, it could not be.  
Each step sounded so loud, slick with red, and gritty with the rocks that now covered the meticulously paved streets. But nothing sounded as loud as the wind that carried with it the cries of one he knew. He wanted to run to her, but he could not spur his feet to action any more than he could spur his tears to fall. This was an impossibility, a reality that should not be possible. A dream that had somehow wormed and corrupted his waking eyes. They were the children of the goddess, a mortal could not harbor power like this. Could they?

  
Each sight was a memory of just last week - There was the bakery. He never got around to tasting their wares, but Indech had loved their pastries. Shoes littered the street outside the cobblers, along with the body of the one who had made them. He had bought his mother some shoes from her in years past, her craft was magnificent. The restaurant that always smelled of smoking meats and simmering garlic smelled now only of rot and decay.

  
His footsteps brought him ever closer until he saw the woman kneeling over the large fountain at the center of the plaza. A beautifully carved marble slab filled with the figures of the goddess and her children. He could see them; Celeann, Adair, Macha, Seiros, Ogmah, Ecne. All covered in soot and blood with cracks lining their stone bodies. An ill omen. He felt outside himself as he approached, as if seeing her from a new set of eyes. He watched her scream and dip her arms in the water already so thick with blood that it could no longer wash it from her hands. Still she tried relentlessly and frantically, face contorted in a pain no living creature should survive. And part of him wondered if she truly did.

  
She either did not notice his approach or did not care to react. All she seemed to comprehend was her soiled hands. He could not find the words to call her, but could not stand to watch it any longer. Slowly he leaned down and wrapped his arms around her, gently trying to calm her frantic washing. It wasn't until he pulled her arms to her chest that she began to fight back. Her head whipped sharply back, cracking him in the jaw hard enough he felt his teeth clap together. She pushed to her feet with a strength he knew to be inhuman, unbalancing him enough to send them both sprawling to the ground. He felt the impact of the stone against his head, and his cry of surprise was cut short as shock overwhelmed him. Still his strength was more, a gift from their once shared goddess, and he kept his hands locked around her.

  
"I'll kill you - I'll kill them all! I'll tear you to pieces! You will never be forgiven, I will hunt you until the end of time and I will make you feel this? Do you hear me, Nemesis? Do you hear me?!" Her voice was so loud and hoarse from screaming he could no longer hear his aunt in this broken creature anymore. He could say nothing to the madness that convulsed profanity and threats that made her reel like a fish in his arms. All he could do was hold her steady until her rage gave way to pain.

  
Her shouts turned to wails of anguish, and his arms turned from a cage into an embrace as she gave in. Now he could feel his own pain coming through, he had so many questions, but this reaction was all he needed to know the truth. It was all gone. They were all gone. His face pushed into her shoulder as they wept in unison, unable to mourn all that was lost. Everything was destroyed and he had not been there to protect them. He had not been there to even die with them.

  
It felt like an hour before they could slow their sobs long enough to finally acknowledge one another. As her tension faded, he loosened the grip around her. Together they sat up, and she turned to face him, face devoid of all light. Even then he could tell she had no words to give, and he opened his arms to allow her to return this embrace. She buried herself into his shoulder, and he was surprised to hear her speak again. Her voice made an attempt at gentleness, but it was thwarted by the rawness of her throat. "Cichol, you are alive. You made it back..." She near whispered.  
He could feel the emptiness in those words. All the hopelessness that could not be thwarted by just his presence. "I am here, Seiros..." He responded, putting a hand to the back of her head. Her jade hair was matted in dirt, grime, and crusted blood. Her body was littered in wounds, one of which he was certain would have been fatal to a mortal. If he had to guess she had been pierced by a spear, but she did not even seem to pay it any mind. Not favoring the wounded muscles nor turning away from his touch as he pressed the flesh to gauge it. She would need to fall into a healing sleep if she wanted to recover from such a grievous injury, and yet she was still awake. Nothing was right.

"They-Mother-Everyone- Ero, Ogmah-All of them, Cichol- They-" She struggled to speak, unable to align thoughts.

  
"Don't say it. Please, I know." As much as he wanted to hear those words, he found himself unable to bear it spoken aloud. "I know..." He repeated.

  
The wind around them began to pick up, bearing with it the scent of blood so powerful he could feel himself try not to gag at its stench. The two broke their concentration on each other to look around, feeling the magic that coursed through that breeze. It was not natural. Seiros shifted in his embrace, feet moving beneath her as to ready herself to pounce, and the intensity in her muscles showed her willingness to fight. But when her eyes shifted, up she heaved out a great sigh of relief.

  
His eyes followed hers to the sky, seeing the small shape on the horizon line. Its body was heavy and wings longer than any bird had the right to be. In a moment of realization he recognized his own kin; A child of the sky and not the earth, they were a child none the less. He wanted to stand and greet his brother, but he felt pinned to this place. Needing Seiros's support as much as she needed his. So together they waited as the dragon grew and grew upon approach, whipping up wind so powerful that anything loose upon the wrecked streets began to sprawl wildly.

  
All it took to know he saw the carnage was the scream that tore through his ears and soul as the beast landed heavily to the earth. His massive head adorned in a crown of feathers shook wildly, and his chest heaved in heavy breaths to support his cries. It was only a moment before those sharp eyes landed on Seiros and Cichol, desperation and confusion written deep within. The large dragon's form shrank with each step closer, each feather retracting into flesh. His fanged snout grew shorter and shorter until it fell in line with a human face. He was a slight man, every bit the same as when Cichol had seen him only a few days before. Dressed in immaculate white robes adorned with gold trim and his personal symbol emblazoned in gold upon his chest. A symbol of the church.

  
"Macuil..." Cichol greeted, holding back the emotion that was hitting again as he watched his brother take in all that surrounded them. The man walked around, a whine the only thing that could make it through his hands as he paced around from building to building, unable to comprehend.

  
"Zanado!" Macuil cried finally, not stopping the red from staining the bottom of his beautiful robes. "No!" An anguished cry. Cichol could do nothing but turn his head away, unable to watch as his brother's anger began to overtake the impossible pain. He could hear him screaming that heartbreak into obscenities, but he no longer wanted to hear the words. He could hear his footsteps as he paced the red cobblestone, uneven and uncertain steps. Ones that carried him down a nearby street.

  
Seiros however turned into this rage as validating sunlight as she poured her venom into each breath after him. "They killed them! Everyone is dead because of those rats-those worthless and meaningless Argathans-They did this! Nemesis! Nemesis did this. They drank their blood and took their bones. Pests-Mosquitoes, bugs, They are bugs-" She could not even form a thought as she was driven back into her madness.

  
Cichol released her, standing to his feet in disgust at what she had just revealed, and he stared down at her in silence while she struggled to make words. "Why?" He couldn't stop the question. A human's greed was nothing to turn a blind eye to, but the devastation on this scale was incomprehensible, even in the name of power.

  
"Revenge! To take mother's strength and-and use it against us! Those worms survived and now they think themselves greater! They used his greed-his lust for power, and turned him on us-" Seiros's voice was reaching hysterics once again, and he could hear her shrieking echoing down the empty alleyways. He knew Macuil would hear her tirade loud and clear. "They killed them with-Those were our-!" She looked at Cichol with desperation for him to just know what she was trying to say.

  
He nodded, releasing a breath with as much control as he could muster. Yes, he understood, and wanted to hear no more of it. His brothers, sisters, mother, aunts, uncles; All of them were killed for a war most had no part in. Their bodies mutilated into be weapons to fuel a crusade long put to rest. Those weapons had been used to destroy Zanado.

  
Macuil returned to them, holding in his hands a pile of golden trinkets. "This was the Argathans doing?" There was a terrifying calm to his approach, a dark shift from his previous horror. His beautiful white robes were now covered in red where he had wiped the charms off meticulously to their former shine. They were the unique crests of the Nabateans, and each one was familiar to Cichol. Cautiously he took one from his brother, holding it in both hands as if the weight of it was too much for one alone. He turned it around to feel the bumps and dips of its perfect craftsmanship. That was made for Elatha, one of his aunts, a direct child of the goddess. She had a gift for tenacity, unyielding in her strength and passion. He hoped she had at least gotten a fair fight for an honorable death.  
"What do we do now?" Cichol asked, unable to take his eyes away from this little crest. It was so little, but it felt so heavy.

  
"We have to go after them..." Macuil growled. "They can't have gotten far."

  
"And do what exactly? What do you think we can do that our entire family can not? They will kill us all the same. I don't know about you, but I don't want my bones to be used by those... humans." Cichol reasoned levelly, words coming out clearer than he expected. He also did not expect the gentleness his heart still felt for the race that had done this to their home. They had lived among them, here in this city. Sharing bread, sharing labor, sharing companionship. This... this was not what was in all of their hearts.

  
"So we do nothing?! Let those rats get away with it? We are gods! I will not-"

"So were they! I am not saying do nothing, I am saying we cant be clouded in judgement!" Cichol snapped back voice sharp in his retaliation.

  
"Our family is gone, Cichol, and they are right there. You want me to wait while you come up with the perfect opportunity?!" Macuil grew desperate in his rage, hooking his fangs into whatever stood in front of him.

  
"I do not want to lose what's left of my family!" Cichol took a step forward, fists tight his own emotions held back by a thread. "Now use your head-They did this to us with just a few bodies, and now they have dozens." The thought brought bile to his tongue and he spit unceremoniously to the side as he turned his back. A disgusting thought.

  
"Then what do we do, oh brilliant strategist?" Macuil's tears flowed freely down his face now, but his anger was the only thing clear on his face.

  
"I don't know! I don't know what to do!" He could feel that truth like a stone in his gut. "Taking out your sorrow on me will not change what has happened here, and the reality we now face-"

  
"We should wait here..." Seiros spoke up, voice raspy but calmer than it had just been. "I sent for Demeter, Fabel, Indech, Balor, and Lir as well. If they still live... they will return here. Just as you, they will not know what happened." Her breath shook as she took a sharp inhale, and the pain and fatigue from her wound finally seemed to reach her. It was as if the rage kept her together, and without it, she grew small and weak.

  
"We should give them all proper burials while we wait." Cichol looked to Macuil, eyes locking on his brother's. It didn't take long for the eldest to avert his gaze, shamed by his outburst. He nodded a few times before his head hung, finally allowing his tears to overtake him. It was easy now to hug him as he had Seiros, and weep with him. The task of burying the city was something to be feared. Seeing faces they knew...

  
It was a slow start to such a gory task, and with each body that he recognized, he could feel the madness that Seiros displayed pressing to the back of his mind. Missing limbs, distorted bones, burned remains, these gruesome deaths belonged on a battlefield, not by a neighborhood. The overwhelming desire for revenge hit him like a hot iron. He could feel the fear and confusion in their final moments in every pair of eyes he closed. His people, his family, his city - The one responsible for this did not deserve the grace of a quick death. He wanted them to suffer as these lost souls had suffered. It would be returned in kind.

  
As day shifted to night it was obvious how little they had managed to accomplish, and how great the task before them even was. They could say nothing to one another, find no words to soothe or encourage, no words strong enough to mourn, no tears that could release, and no sleep to escape. Even when it became too much and they stared over the distant canyon walls they could see nothing but red.

  
It wasn't until the next morning that they heard the distant hooves of another arrival. Indech had finally made his way home, a larger man with a sturdy demeanor and soft eyes broken by all he saw. Once again they relived the horror to tell the story of all that had transpired. His weeping might have been the loudest of them all as he did not allow anger to cloud his sorrow, he felt what they all could not. Cichol found himself a little jealous of his tears, wishing that they would cleanse him as they did his brother.

  
Rain followed them through the day, cleaning the city in a way they could not. They collected all they could around the great fountain, forming a garden of white sheets. Seiros offered not to assist in collecting the bodies, nor did she fall into a healing slumber. In fact said nothing to her family, her grieving taking her words from her. Her shallow eyes could only watch, and offer a prayer to a goddess that could no longer hear them.

  
"I do not think it is right to bury them here..." Indech spoke up when the light began to fall.

  
Seiros looked to him, his soft words had broken the silence they had all grown comfortable in. The next step was a hard thing to think about for them all, but as the city emptied, they knew it must be spoken of. Macuil and Cichol also offered each other a glance, hoping the other would continue the thought first. But as the silence carried on Cichol cleared his throat. "It is our home, I don't think they would mind being buried here."

  
"And give humans the chance to desecrate these graves too? Not wise." Macuil countered, but seeing his brother's glare, he held his hands up defensively. "I think it best to take them where we can guard them. We should take them to the church."

  
"To be buried with Sothis?" Indech inquired hopefully, but he sighed after a moment. "They have already defiled that holy place, we know it cannot withstand an assault from the Argathans."

  
"They have already taken what they want from there, and... have already taken what they want from here." Macuil gestured around them, taking a moment to breathe. "My guess is, that place will be safe long enough for us to fortify it."

  
"We cannot claim to know their goals," Cichol began, arms crossed across his broad chest. "But... we are not safe from them no matter where we go. I think they would rather like being buried alongside Sothis. It is what I would have preferred."

  
Seiros sat on the ground in front of the fountain, curled up smaller than she had looked this entire time. Still she offered no thoughts to the conversation at hand, only looked about like a lost child. The brothers looked to her expectantly, but when silence greeted them they returned to their thoughts. "It is not far. I can carry most of them on my back, and perhaps a cart in my claws."

  
"What of the humans? The church is not big enough for all of them." Indech held a hand to his chest, a gesture of calming as his emotions attempted to get the better of him. He looked over them, mouth halting on the names he could hardly find the strength to utter. Many of the Nabateans had taken human companions, Ecne had taken a human wife while Aeris had born a human child with her husband. As much a part of their family as the children of the goddess.

  
"I can take care of most of them." Cichol offered gently. "I do not think I can give each of them their own grave, but I will do my best to honor them." His mind traced the outline of everyone he had once known, contorted into the wretched state the siege had left them in. It hit him like a physical wound and his eyes closed as he processed this pain yet again.

  
"Is it possible to take them to the temple as well? Bury them close?" Indech asked quietly, green eyes so earnest in the request, Cichol wondered if he was asking permission or demanding it be so.

  
"That-" Macuil began holding a hand to his head, trying to logistically figure out how to bring such a body count up a mountainside. "That is possible, but I can only carry so many. Seiros, do you have the strength to help?"

  
Seiros looked to all of them, emotionless face switching between each of them. She opened her mouth to speak, but it closed quickly and she nodded. There was a resolve there that gave Cichol hoped his aunt had something left inside of her.

  
"Then it is decided. I would like to leave this place as soon as possible... Tomorrow I will take our kin to the church with Indech and Seiros, and you will bury the humans and meet us there when you are done." Macuil summed up their plans and looked to each of them in turn to get confirmation.

  
"I will actually take Veela, she has gotten me through much, I will take a cart with whatever personal items we would like to salvage," Indech interjected, losing confidence as the sentence went on. "I... would like to take a few things before we go, and I suggest you all do the same."

  
Cichol looked surprised, then to everyone before nodding. "Very well. That is a good idea. Tomorrow though, I don't think I can take any more tonight."

**Author's Note:**

> It's a rough start for the Saints. I hope you guys have fun on this journey with me to figure out how they become the leaders of a religious uprising from this point.  
> Don't worry it can only go up from here right??


End file.
